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COPYRIGHT DEPOSir. 



i 



IVAN ZORMAN 



PESMI 



CLEVELAND, OHIO 
1922 






Copyright, 1922, by 
Ivan Zorman 



JUN 14 1922 



<0)CI.A677147 



Zelje. 

Viharne, koprnece zelje, 
ki V sfcnem hramu valove, 
me vcasih poneso v veselje, 
2 bridkostjo veckrat me teze. 

A hujse bodo bolecine, 
ce kdaj usahne vir zelja, 
in jamem dvigati spomine 
iz ostarelega srca. 



Metulju, 

Na mrezo okna mojega 
si lahno se prizibal; 
ce bi lovil te ali ne, 
za hipec sem ugibal. 

Od tvojih micnih barv prevzet, 
sem zrl te pozeljivo 
in V suznost mislil vzeti sem 
lepoto to vabljivo. — 

Ne bom prostosti ti jemal, 
te V tesni stan zapiral, 
kjer V mracni moji suznosti 
bi zalosten umiral. 

Saj vem, kako tezko, hudo 
prostost je izgubiti, 
kako hudo in zalostno 
po sili je sluziti. 

Pri meni le se povasuj, 

naj se oko napije, 

potem spet zleti v plan in hrib, 

kjer zlato solnce sije. 



V tezkih urah. 

Tezko takrat je zemljanu, 
ko V nemoci dusa mre, 
ko mu omaguje volja, 
ko V zivljenje plaho zre. 

Od usode crnotemne 
ob prepad obupa gnan, 
isce dobrosrcne roke, 
ki mu spet odkrije dan. 

Niceva se zdi tolazba, 
ki mu jo poklanja svet, 
brez hladila rek modrosti, 
V knjigi svetlo razodet. 

Z mrzlo mislijo-vodnico 
bolna dusa se bori, 
tezko caka resnje poti, 
tezko caka jasnih dni. 



S planine hudournik . 

S planine hudournik 
viharno pridrvi — 
ko sprejme ga livada, 
se naglo umiri. 

V gorovju gozd trepece, 
mu strela, grom preti — 
ko solnce ga poboza, 
pokojno spet susti . . . 

Le rahlocuten clovek, 
preganjan od skrbi, 
utrujenemu srcu 
pokoja ne dobi. 



V jeseni. 

Zakaj, vetrovi nocni, 
srdito se oglasate, 
zakaj pokojni dusi 
nemir in strah prinasate? 

Ste prisli mi ocitat 
veselje prejsnjih cvetnih dni 
in rogat se spominu 
carobnih zvezdnatih noci? 

Glasniki vi ste dusi 
zakona neizprosnega: 
Vsak hip sladkosti srcne 
poplacaj ura zalostna! 



Svarilo starca. 

Mnogo je spomladnih dni minilo, 
predno sem prirode moc spoznal. 
Koliko gorja bi manj mi bilo, 
ce pri njej hladila bi iskal! 

Mnogo je poletij odhitelo, 
predno me je caral njih sepet, 
predno duso mehko je objelo 
sladko petje ptic in trat lesket. 

Dolgo zivel sem v drazestnem kraju, 
sredi polj cvetocih in ravnin, 
a srce ni znalo, da je v raju . . . 
Na mladost mi vstaja zal spomin. 

O, naj mlado bi srce spoznalo 
kras prirode, blesk tekocih let, 
da se bridko kdaj ne bo kesalo, 
ker prezrlo je prelepi svet! 



10 



V zrcalu. 

Krog mojih zalostnih oci 
uzrl duha sem mladih dni. 
Nedolzno se mi je smehljal, 
otrosko, tiho mi dejal: 

''Zakaj izpolnil nisi sanj, 
ki zivo veroval si vanj, 
ni vec ti solncnih ciljev mar, 
ni trdna volja vec vladar? 

Obeti tvoji kje so, kje, 

li staro, mrtvo je srce, 

je li tako te zbegal svet, 

da sleheren vzor ti je odvzet? 

Zatisnil naglo sem oci, 
kot on, ki se duhov boji, 
in V prsih mojih cut pekoe 
pozabnost zval je na pomoc. 



11 



Slikarju. 

Spet slikas Krista trpecega, 
na Oljski gori molecega, 
bi spet obudil rad spomin 
neznosnih, smrtnih bolecin? 

Dovolj nam je Kristov-trpinov, 
dovolj vseh bridkostnih spominov, 
ne kazi nam njegovih ran, 
pokazi Krista solncno stran. 

Naslikaj nam Krista veselega, 
mladenica lepega, smelega, 
ki bratom lahno se smeji 
in kaze zarjo lepsih dni. 



12 



Srcu. 

Kako bi vcasih glasno vriskal, 
sosedu roko krepko stiskal, 
nezmerne radosti pijan, 
od bajnih luci le obdan! 

A vcasih se solzan hudujem, 
usodo kruto objokujem, 
in karam vse stvari, Ijudi, 
vsa zemlja se sovrazna zdi. — 

Daruj, srce, mi sredo zlato, 
odvrni radost prebogato, 
veselje daj prijaznih cest 
in zmerno zalost in bolest! 



13 



Starka. 

Kakor bela sveca, 
ki V svetiscu plapola, 
lep obraz je starke, 
kadar se smehlja. 

Kakor zimsko solnce, 
ki izcrpano zari, 
zre oko nje trudno, 
ko razmislja mlade dni. 

Zarod njen odsel je — 
tihe njene so zelje, 
kakor pod razpalim mlinom 
tihe so vode. 



14 



V tihem zimskem veceru. 

Vecer v ledene cipke 
grmovje, drevje vije, 
da rahlo, pravljicno cinglja 
kristalne melodije. 

Topolov vrsta bela 
se V biserih leskece, 
ko zvezd srebrnih milijon 
z neba poljube mece. 

Zakaj nocoj, o zima, 
tako si mila, zala? 
Zato li, da po tebi kdaj 
bi dusa zalovala? 



15 



Snezinke. 

Ste ve duhovi padlih listov, 
snezinke prve zimskih dni, 
da veter skozi golo drevje 
za vami zalostno jeci? 

Ali pa angeli ste blagi, 

ki trume peljete duhov 

V domovje tajno, kjer se spleta 

nakit za vigred zelen, nov? 



V pomladnem jutru. 

Topla solncna luc je bila skrita 

V mraku duhomornih zimskih dni 
danes, v zmagoslaven spev razlita, 

V jasnem jutru vesna se smeji. 

Kot otroci zivi so potoki, 
ni otoznosti na njih sledu; 
glasnih pticic lahni so poskoki, 
ne poznajo bridkih ur sadii. 

Cvetke k nebu dvigajo glavice, 
ko poljube solnce jim deli — 
jaz pa sem pozabil na krivice 
ob prihodu blagodejnih dni. 



17 



Njagara. 

Mogocni slap, sijajni kras dezele, 
svobodne zemlje zivi si simbol. 
Ovire vse odbijas v silnem teku — 

V tvoj grom zamikata se breg in dol. 

Podoba srcem si moci titanske, 
mladosti slikas vekoviti up. 
Ti kruta si, kot plam Ijubezni prve, 
in strastna, kakor prvi njen poljub. 

In V neprestanem gromovitem padu 
zemljanom vzor si nevtrudljivosti — 
tekoc po zmagi v reki jasnomirni, 
odsev daru si smele vztrajnosti. 

Pogled nate pomlaja trudna srca, 
uziga nove, silnejse moci, 

V prihodnje dni jim kaze solncna pota, 
pogum V zivljenja delo pozivi. 



18 



Optimist. 

Glasi pesimistov krozijo 

krivicah nepopolnega sveta, 

bridko tarnajo in tozijo, 

da pod solncem sreca ni doma. 

Z vzdihi zalnimi modrujejo, 

da tezko znacaj je najti cist 

in vihravo se hudujejo, 

ces, da trosi vrag povsod zavist . . ., 

Meni svet je v pestrosti krasan, 
najsi poln je nepopolnosti. 
Kdor je zive dni lepoti vdan, 
pije polne case radosti. 

Kaj mi mar zavist in kup prevar, 
kaj mi mar minljivost sladkih nad! 
Ene roze, pesmi, deve car 
V srce dahne toplo mi pomlad. 

A cvetlic in pesmi in deklet 
lepih je in zlahtnih sto in sto! — 
Objokujte, pesimisti, svet, 
meni v njem ziveti je sladko. 



19 



Godec Tine. 

S harmoniko jaz delam cuda: 
vsi plesejo kot morski vali . . . 
Moj stric duhovnik je na Trati, 
moj brat pa doli v Cerkvi Mali. 

Nekoc sem srecal ju na solncu: 
oba iz svetih knjig sta brala; 
od njiju brz sem se poslovil, 
da z mrakom ne bi me obdala. 

Ko po koncanem tem zivljenju 
nas sveti Peter bo pozdravil, 
lepo se bo nam trem nasmehnil, 
a najprej mene v raj postavil ; 

ker dobri vedno so veseli 
in so po srcu vecno mladi; 
veselim, dobrim vsec so godci 
in plesejo veseli radi. 

Ko bodo gori znanci moji 

s presrecnim krikom me spoznali, 

''Zagodi, Tine," bodo rekli 

in zaplesali kakor vali. 



20 



Starost in mladost. 

Moj ded me dan za dnem je karal: 
''Samo po hribih lazis in gozdovih, 
studencev isces po gorovju, 
po starih klatis se gradovih. 

Po smrekah, bukvah hlace trgas, 
potepas s fanti se ob vodi. 
Pomagal bi mi lahko mnogo, 
pa menda moti te sam zlodi. 

Povem ti, fante malopridni, 
da mislis, molis vse premalo. 
Vse, kar imamo tu na svetu, 
dobrotno je nebo poslalo." 

Betezni starec s to modrostjo 
ni mnogo na srce mi vplival, 
naucil malo, nic poboljsal. 
On pridigal je, jaz — uzival. 



21 



Ob jutru. 

Kot sramezljiva bela nuna, 
V samoti rozica kleci, 
kadilo carobno oddaja, 
da V bliznje polje zadisi. 

K poboznosti prihaja solnce 
kot fant pogleda jo gorko, 
poljublja tiho belo sestro, 
da od sramu zardi mocno. 



22 



Vijolici. 

V daljnem, varnem tern zatisju, 
kjer cvetes Ijubo, mirno, 
razen mojega nobeno 

ni se zrlo te oko. 

Senca pala ni cloveska 
razen moje nate se — 
moja ne bi, da ni k tebi 
naslo mi nebo steze. 

Prvi hip je moja dusa 

V tvoj vtopila se obraz, 

in s teboj v Ijubezni bozji 
se zdruzila v vecni cas. 



23 



Poet. 

Kje so nade zlate, 
nade hitrobezne, 
kje mladostne roze, 
roze sladkonezne! 

Pota so nestalna, 
tezko je poetu — 
brez miru in ciljev 
gre po sumnem svetu. 

Z mislimi, zeljami 
isce jasne ceste, 
isce stalne srece, 
isce duse zveste. 

Ko vecerna zarja 
zarke nanj razlije, 
in V poljani cvetni 
pozabljenje pije — 

takrat se oddahne 
dusa V neizmernost, 
in srce odene 
V sladko se presernost. 



24 



Stvarstvo mu sepece 
pravljice skrivnostne, 
bajna noc izbrise 
misli mu bridkostne. 



25 



II. 



Iz nekdanjih dni. 

V minulih sem letih nekoc 
ob jezeru v mraku pocival; 
naznanjale zvezde so noc, 
po zemlji se mir je razlival. 

Po dolu se zibal je glas, 
kot flavta bil poln je miline: 
''O draga, zdaj zlati je cas, 
oj pridi, mladost hitro mine! 

Z visave sneznikov lesket 
je srca mladostna ozarjal; 
Savice tajinstven sepet 
k Ijubezni jih je nagovarjal 



29 



Zakaj ? 

Zakaj ob tvoji strani 
smehlja se mi nebo, 
in V nedogledne dalje 
brezskrbno zre oko? 

Zakaj s teboj dviguje 
cvetlica lepsi vzduh, 
in slednji glas v prirodi 
sladkeje cara sluh? 

Zakaj brez tebe, draga, 
brezkoncne so noci, 
zakaj samotna dusa 
le k tebi koprni? 

Zakaj brez tebe, Ijuba, 
neznana je radost, 
zakaj brezsolncna, zalna 
brez tebe je mladost? 



30 



Jaz Ijubim te . . . 

Jaz Ijubim te, ko v pestri druzbi 
oci strmijo v zorni tvoj obraz; 
se bolj te Ijubim, kadar meni 
podaris mehek, Ijubezniv izraz. 

Ni dano mi, da ti odkrijem, 
kako se v te zaplelo je srce. 
Ljubezen moja silna je a nema - 
srce od dalec le Ijubiti sme. 

In vsa velika, lepa ta ljubezen 
ne bo nikoli razodeta, 
ko pesem, ki srce jo sebi poje 
in drugim nikdar ne bo peta., 



31 



Dekliska Ijubezen. 

Ogenj, daj mi tvojega plamena 
silno, zmagovito moc! 
Zvezda, daj mi onega sijaja, 
s kterim ti napajas noc! 
Roza, daj milino in vonjavo, 
daj carobno mi sladkost, 
da bo dragemu srce vzdrhtelo, 
da osrecim mu mladost! 



32 



Zvestoba. 

Ce bi ti prebudil se ob zori, 
ne da mislil bi name, 
vedela bi to, ker solnce 
bledo bi svetilo cez gore. 

Ce bi jaz kdaj sanjala ponoci, 
ne da ti bi zaijsal san, 
vem, prijazne zvezdice v visavah 
skrile bi svoj svit krasan. 

Ce bi eden ali drugi naju 
zrl spet prvega sestanka kraj, 
ne da sladkih bi obljub se spomnil, 
tema svet bi krila vekomaj. 



33 



Vedno ti. 

Ko drugi fantje govore, 
domislim vedno se nate — 
prijetneje doni tvoj glas, 
in silnejsi je tvoj izraz. 

Ko V druge fante zro oci, 
pred mene v duhu stopis ti — 
zamislim v tvojo se glavo, 
ki nosis jo tako lepo. 

Ko V mislih k drugim pohitim, 
za hip srce osvobodim — 
a misel nate je vihar, 
ki druge odpodi vsekdar. 



34 



Ljubezni hrepenenje. 

Kaj bi upal, kaj bi tarnal, 
naj karkoli je odbrano! 
Vendar radovednost vecna 
vprasa, kaj bo jutri z mano. 

Ali V razigrano radost pohitim, 
all V zalost sedem zalosti, 
ali V noc, od zvezdic razsvetljeno, 
kjer ni najsvetlejsa lepa kakor ti? 

Saj sem del vesoljne volje, 
saj i moj je delez tajna sila. 
E, zakaj prelepa, vredna zelja 
bi se mi ne izpolnila! 



35 



Ni dovolj Ijubezen? 

Radi ene zal besede 
bi ti mogia me zavreci? 
Radi nje bi mogIa res 
se odreci srcni sreci? 

Draga, ni dovolj Ijubezen? 
Kak nespametna bi bila roza, 
ce bi s solncem sprla se, 
z njim, ki jo Ijubece boza! 

Bila res bi nehvalezna, 
ce bi njen pogled bil jezen, 
ker je vcasih dan teman. 
Draga, ni dovolj Ijubezen? 



Ob njenem godu. 

Prisrcno drago sem povprasal: 
*'Kaj naj za god ti podarim 

V dokaz Ijubezni gorke, 
ki zate v srcu jo gojim?'' 

''Ne daj mi zide, lepoticja, 
ne daj mi zlatega blaga — 

V najdrazjih biserih ni zame 
izraza gorkega srca. 

Ce Ijubis me, zapoj mi pesem, 
navdahnjeno z gorecnostjo, 
ki z nebom bo se poljubila 
in porocila z vecnostjo/' 



37 



Indijanski motiv. 

Iz dezele Modre Vode 
vjeto peljejo dekle; 
iz oci ji strela sviga, 
brez bojazni predse zre . . 

Ko cez goro zora sveti, 
k njej se bliza moj korak, 
pred sotorom moja flavta 
svira ji napev sladak. 

Niso mar ji mehki glasi, 
ki Ijubezen jih budi — 
koprni po Modri Vodi, 
zalost ji srce mori. 



38 



Poletja klic. 

V jeseni sva se srecala, 

V Ijubezen sladko se vtopila, 
par uric srecno sanjala, 
nato V slovo se poljubila. 

Prisel je tozni zimski cas, 

V zivljenje resno me izvabil. 
Iz misli sel je tvoj obraz, 
ime sem skoro ti pozabil. 

Spomlad je spet pridihala, 
zapela pesem hrepenenja, 
spet dusi je naslikala 
podobe solncnega zivljenja. 

Poletja blesk me zivo zdaj 
spominja radosti bogate: — 
O draga, duse moje slaj, 
daj, obnoviva ure zlate! 



39 



Zaljubljenec. 

Kadar ob meni drage ni, 
moreca v srcu bdi bolest; 
otozno, mrko zro oci 
presernost, sum veselih cest. 

Kaj vse trpim v Ijubezni dneh, 
ne boste zvedeli nikdar! 
Naj vse pregrne tenek smeh, 
kaj bi vam pravil, kaj vam mar? 

Nikdo tako kot jaz ne ve, 
kako brez nje zivim tezko, 
kako nemirno je srce, 
dokler ne stopim spet pred njo. 



40 



Prosnja. 

O zlato solnce, ki ti topli zarek 
za temnosivim je oblakom skrit, 
ti moje si srce; gore v njem zelje, 
nad njimi je megleni dvom razlit. 

Le duj mi veter, dokler skriti plamen 
ne dvigne me nad temni ta oblak! — 
O Ijuba, moje ti ime le vzdihni, 
in spet mi v srcu pokoj bo sladak. 

Ti zracnih visocin sepet si tajni, 
ki V beg pozenes tezke megle vse; 
razprsi slutnje bede in obupa, 
odvrni srcu ure zalostne! 



41 



V parku. 

Po klopicah sedijo parcki, 
po stezah se sprehajajo, 
pomenki o Ijubezni sreci 
iz gorkih src prihajajo. 

Midva sva cinicna in modra 
preblizu ne pustis roke, 
saljivo skusas govoriti, 
da zatajila bi srce. 

Dovolj je sale, moja lepa, 
ne brani se Ijubezni roz! 
Boris se, a v Ijubezni borbi 
naposled izgubila bos. 



42 



Flori. 

Ne huduj se nad menoj, o Flora, 
rajsi me z nasmehom spet poglej ! 
Jeze strup ti le temni oblicje, 
ki zarelo tak Ijubo je prej. 

Ti zalujes po nekdanjih urah, 
ki jih prezivela si z menoj, 
pravis, da te grenek kes trpinci, 
ker poljube sem delil s teboj. 

Li kaj zalega sem s tem ti storil? 
Saj mladost je dana za radost. 
Kdor Ijubezni v mladih dneh ne pije, 
on zapravi srcno vso sladkost, 

Ko samevala bos v poznih letih, 
carni bo spomin ti v dusi vstal — 
dragoceni bodo vsi poljubi, 
ki ti jih mladosti cas je dal. 



43 



Zenska. 

*'Ne, ne/' se ona nasmehija, 
''moziti se mi ne velja, 
Ijubezen mi je malo mar, 
Ijubezen je nevarna stvar. 
Ne, ne! S tem ti le smesis sebe." 

Obrnil se je zalostno, 
bridkost je segla v duse dno: 
''Zdravstvuj ! Nikdar ne vrnem se!" 
Zaklice ona: ''Oh, ne, ne! 
Kaj bi pocela jaz brez tebe!" 



44 



Nekdaj in sedaj. 

Ko sem v solo se pohajal 
in ucitelju nagajal, 
ni me tepel, ne ostel — 
med dekleta me je del. 
Deklic smeh je bil poreden, 
da sem od sramu bil beden. 

Tezki hipi so minili, 
zdaj so srcu dragi, mili. 
Nisem vec tak sramezljiv — 
svet deklet je bolj vabljiv. 
Zdaj vsak cas bi brez trepeta 
sel za kazen med dekleta. 



45 



III. 



Vernih dus dan. 

Bodite z nami, verne duse — 

ve duse, ki za druge ste zivele, 

za sreco bliznjega gorele, 

za sabo misli, vzore klene zapustile 

in z njimi zapocele delo, 

ki vnuk ga dopolnjuje smelo, 

clovestvu pot pripravlja bolj veselo! 

Bodite z nami, verne duse, 
ki ste V zivljenju sanjale v visave, 
ki sebi, drugim cuda ste obetale, 
a vas moril je trnjev pot nizave! 

Bodite z nami, verne duse, 

ki sle ste v bojni grom, v pekel, 

da rod, ki bil stoletja je na kriz razpet, 

bi bil krivic, okov in zmot otet, 

in V novem, cistem zaru prerojen, 

V zivljenju novem, lepsem razsvetljen[ 



49 



Kakor v davnih casih 

1919. ' '■ 

< 

Kakor v davnih casih 
vesna se smeji, 
kakor v mladih letih 
vse brsti, dehti. 
Gledam pestre cvete, 
slusam pticji glas, 
a z nemirnim srcem 
pijem ves ta kras. 

Rad, rad bi v daljo, 
tja cez ocean, 
da bi zrl se enkrat 
hrib nas in ravan, 
videl, ce se deca 
srecna se igra, 
ce se kmetic poje, 
njivam se smehlja. 



5G 



A tezi me slutnja, 
da je kmetic tih, 
da je zemlja trudna, 
truden sapic dih, 
da je deca bleda, 
rosno nje oko, 
da le skrb kraljuje 
s sklonjeno glavo . . . 



51 



Domotozje. 

Res, mnogo lepega je tu: 
mamljive roze tu cveto, 
in ptice radostno pojo. 
Premnogo bratov tu imam, 
dobrotna srca njih poznam; 
prijazni drugorodci so, 
smeje ustrezajo zeljam. 

A mnogokdaj otozen zrem 
deklet in fantov blisk v oceh, 
poslusam nem njih glasen smeh; 
in mnogokdaj, ko godbe svirajo 
in se Ijudje k zabavam zbirajo, 
vesele glase mi srce odklanja — 
Svetem Jostu, o Bohinju sanja . 

Zakaj, domovina, 

oddaljenega sina 

nikoli ne pozabis, 

zakaj ga v radosti, v bolesti 

skrivnostno k sebi vabis! 

Saj vem, kdor le za hip je zrl 

milino, velicino tvojo, 

na veke v dar ti dal je duso svojo. 



52 



Zalostna epistola rojakom 
V domovini. 

Ob nastopu blazene Prohibicije 1. 1919. 

Bremena so neznosna vas morila, 
bolj kakor Job ste vi trpeli; 
socutja nam je dusa trepetala, 
ko ste na tezkih ranah krvaveli. 

Poznana vam je temna suznost, 
poznana vam bridkost nevolje klete, 
poznana vam je moc tiranske sile, 
poznane vam krivice so nestete. — 

Se vecje, dragi, zdaj gorje je nase! 
Ko pesem smrti bila vam je peta, 
vam se ostala blaga je uteha: 
vsaj kaplja vina bila ni odvzeta. 

A mi vzdihujemo ob mizah, 
ce toci se, se le skrivaj, bojece; 
oprezno zbiramo se, kot tatovi, 
nikdo si ne zeli neljube jece. 



53 



Banketi nasi, nase veselice 
zaspanosti so klasicna podoba; 
ce se z obcutkom ''miserere" hi zapeli, 
bi ze okusali sladkosti groba. 

Noci samotne so, brezkoncne, 
podnevi megla solnca zar zagrinja — 

V brezupnem hrepenenju dusa plaka, 
ko se prelepih ''mokrih" dni spominja. 

To je usoda, ki nas bica, 

a zdrayo je za uma modrovanje, 

za ''suhe'' Jere sola preizborna: 

V bridkostih se rodi spoznanje. 

O bratje mili v domovini, 

zdaj vi socutje obudite! 

Svobodi ''suhi'' enega na cast izpijte, 

a zraven se prevec nam ne smejite! 



Izseljenci. 

O domovina, kaj si zagresila? 
Procesija gre za procesijo . . . 
O ti, ki nam tako si draga, mila, 
zakaj tako je v tebi zalostno? 

Ah, glad in skrb na tuje sta nas gnala, 
naprej drzala pot je, ne nazaj — 
bolestna solza je v oceh igrala, 
ko zadnjic zrli smo prelestni kraj. 

In sli smo v temne gozde, v sumna mesta, 
na sirna polja, v zlate rudnike: 

V mogocne dalje pelje nasa cesta, 
od New Yorka do Kalifornije. 

Visoke Koloradske so planine, 
Njagare silne vode hvali svet — 
krasnejse nasih so vrhov pecine, 
milejsi je Pericnika sepet ... 

Zivljenja novega se tu ucimo, 

V novo^ti se zamikajo oci, 

a kmalu si spoznanje priborimo, 
da brez potu medu, cekinov ni. 



55 



Prav radi druzimo se domacini, 
najbolj nas bratov glasi zvesele. 
Na glasu smo povsod v tujini, 
da rod marljiv je, zlato mu srce. 

Vendar, zakaj se vedno, domovina, 
izganjas v tuje dalje zarod svoj, 
kdo kriv, da blesk tvoj, tvoja velicina 
le beden, siromasen da obstoj ? 

O troimeni bratje, dovolj bogate 
so vase gore, polja in morje! 
Ne slutite, da kljuc do dobe zlate 
drzi Ijubezni polno le srce? 

Ta rod nas, ki podaril je Slovanstvu 
po duhu velikanov castni roj, 
naj se na tleh domacih kot v pregnanstvu 
V bridkostih bije smrtonosni boj? 

Ta rod, ki zvesto sluzil je prosveti, 
duha si bistril in blazil srce, 
ne smel, ne mogel castno bi ziveti, 
uzivati svobodna polja in gore?! 



56 



Vtopite se v Ijubezen neomajno, 
ki vam rodila bo prezlahten sad, 
spojila V harmonijo, z lucjo bajno, 
Ljubljano belo, Zagreb, Beligrad. 

Takrat, o dom, se bomo spet vrnili, 
sestali v hisi se ocetovi, 
pri belem kruhu srecni se solzili, 
zivljenja lepsi dan pozdravili. 

Takrat najlepse roze nam pokazi, 
takrat nam najsvetlejse solnce daj, 
brezmejno hrepenenje utolazi, 
naj duso spet omami tvoj sijaj ! 

Dotlej, domovje drago, zivi mirno, 
da nam ozdravis od pretezkih ran, 
utesi kmalu duso vecnoverno, 
pospesi srecnega sestanka dan! 



57 



Ivanu Cankarju v spomin. 

Oh, Ivan, greh odpusti! Res je, 
da smo tak malo te Ijubili, 
da smo za cudezno lepoto 
zasmeh in bic ti naklonili. 

Saj ves, vzorni duh v visavah, 
da dolgo razumeli nismo 
Ijubezni, ki si z njo ustvarjal 
Slovencem novo sveto pismo. 

Kot ti le malokdo je Ijubil 
nas lepi dom in govorico — 
nikdo tako se ni boril se 
za V prah teptanih cast, pravico. 

Odpusti! Ze zari spoznanje. 
Spomin tvoj plamen nov uziga: 
V zivljenje lepse in cistejse 
tvoj plemeniti duh nas dviga. 

Globoko V dusi rod bo cuval 
tvoj dar Ijubezni in resnice, 
da skoro bedni Hlapec Jernej 
ugleda svetlo luc Pravice. 



£8 



Ruskemu pevcu. 

F. Saljapinu. 

Kdo umeje tvojo moc sijajno, 
tvojih prs glasove polne, ciste! 
Duso dvigas nam v dezelo bajno 
in nas delas srecne optimiste. 

Kdo pozabil bi carobne glase, 
ko V nianse strastne ti prodiras, 
ko mogocnost tvojih zvokov rase, 
ko plamtece cute v nas ubiras! 

Ko poklanjas nam z razkosno mero 
bisere slovanskega cutenja, 
potrjujes nam presladko vero 
V zarjo vseslovanskega vstajenja. 

Dar ti redek je nebo poslalo, 

da nam srcno polnis z njim praznoto. 

Naj bi dolgo ti moci dajalo, 

petja nam razkrivati krasoto! 



59 



SLOVENSKE PESMI 
V ANGLESCINL 



ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS 

OF 

SLOVENE POEMS 



Naslednji prevodi naj sluzijo kot nekak donesek k 
morebitni poznejsi, popolnejsi antologiji slovenskih pesmi 
V anglescini. 

V prvi vrsti zelim, da bi ti prevodi nasim mladim, 
tukaj rojenim Slovencem vsaj deloma odkrili lepoto 
slovenske poezije, ki je vredna, da jo vzljubijo. 

I. Z, 



Beneath The Window 

(POD OKNOM) 
France Preseren 

Moon is shining, 

Clock is striking 
Weary, tardy hours of night. 

Lately risen 

Love's afflictions 
All the night give no repose. 

You Tm chiding. 

Lovely maiden. 
You with unrelenting heart! 

You beguile me 
. .And bereave me 
Of my peaceful sleep at home. 

Your enchanting 

Face does ever 
Stealthily to me appear; 

My heart glowing 

Ever sighing 
Pines and yearns to have you near. 



63 



Come to window, 

No one gazes 
But the silent stars on high; 

Come, appear, dear. 

And assure me 
That your heart disdains me not 

Hear my sighing. 

Beckon to me 
If, my dear, you fear to speak. — 

Clock is striking. 

She appears not, 
What am I, poor wight, to do! 

In her bower 

Peep and tell me, 
Stars, if she is slumb'ring there; 

Does she hear me. 

Or deceive me, 
Does she for another pine. 



64 



If she slumbers, 

Blessings on her; 
If she cares not, let it be; 

If another 

She is loving, 
'Reft of her, my heart will break. 



65 



To Strings 

(STRUNAM^ 

France Preseren 

Strings, give forth your mournful music, 
Song, give forth your saddest moan; 
Pour your balm upon my grieving, 
To her cruel heart make known : 

How my cheeks are growing pallid, 
How my eyes are growing dim. 
How my bitter tears are flowing. 
Born of Love's relentless whim; 

How my heart knows only yearning, 
Knows but passionate distress. 
How unknown to it is gladness. 
How unknown is happiness; 

How her face is e'er before me. 
Haunting me wheree'er I go. 
How her lovely, blooming features 
Ever taunt, torment me so ; 



66 



And how ye, that gladly loved one 
Would continue to adore, 
Must, if soon her heart relent not, 
Silence keep forevermore. 

Strings, with such imploring wailings 
Bring to her your gentle art, 
If it lie within your power. 
Rouse compassion in her heart. 



67 



Whither? 

(KAM?) 
France Preseren 

When rushing on in stormy wrath 
Friends ask me: Whither speeds thy path? 

O rather ask the gloomy cloud, 

rather ask the sea wave loud 

When master storm with might profound 
Drives on and madly hurls them round. 

The cloud knows not, nor wave, nor I 
Where goal of my despair may lie. 

1 only feel, I only know 
That I before her may not go 

And that on earth there is no place 
Where I my woe could e'er efface. 



68 



The Sailor 

(MORNAR) 
France Preseren 

Farewell, unfaithful maiden, 
The boat for me is waiting. 
With ringing shot it calls. 
Tread all your ways in safety, 
My hope has fled forever. 
Another thee enthralls. 

To God I gave my promise 
My very soul to forfeit 
Should e'er my love decrease. 
Our hands were clasped so warmly, 
You vov/ed to mighty Heaven 
That love would never cease. 

Broad roads of foaming waters 
Brought me to distant cities. 
Replete with maidens fair; 
The beauty of their faces. 
Their forms of snowy whiteness 
Gave to my heart no care. 



And when the southern breezes 
The sails of white expanded, 
My boat sped home again. 
I found my trusted sweetheart 
In wedlock with another, — 
God knows my suff ring then. 

With tightened sails to billows 
Let us give all our trusting, 
How limpid is the brine! 
How far it may be trusted 
Is known to sailors daring. 
But maids, — who can divine? 

The roar of surging storm-waves 
Disheartens not the sailor. 
Nor death can him dismay. 
The flood engulfs remembrance; 
Love's pangs and gloomy sorrows 
Awakens evVy day. 



70 



O'er sea my boat is gliding, 
Farewell, unfaithful maiden, 
A hundred joys be thine! 
May happiness befriend thee. 
My hope has fled forever. 
Away to foamy brine! 



71 



The Unlawful Mother 

(NEZAKONSKA MATI) 
France Preseren 

Wherefore didst thou come into my life, 
Beautiful babe, lovable babe? 
I am but a youthful maid. 
Mother am I with disgraceful name. 

Father has cursed me, beat me too. 
Mother with tears has bemoaned my fate; 
Friends have derided me for my shame, 
Strangers have pointed fingers at me. 

He who alone was my beloved. 
He who is earthly father thine. 
Whither he sped God only knows. 
He is ashamed of thee and me. 

Wherefore didst thou come into my life, 
Beautiful babe, lovable babe? 
Whether thou shouldst have been or not, 
I cherish thee with tender love. 



72 



When in thine eye serene I gaze, 
Beauties of heaven I seem to see, 
When I behold thy smiHng face, 
All scorn and suffring and woe I forget. 

He who gives life to birds 'neath the sky 
May He with happiness fill thy days! 
Whether thou shouldst have been or not, 
Ever will I love thee tenderly. 



73 



Sonnet 

France Preseren 

I dreamt that you and I in paradise 
Drank endless happiness and ravishment: 
Forgotten were the hours that here are spent, 
Where time and place our diff rences devise. 

With Laura there you sat, life's greatest 

prize. 
Each to the other eager ear you lent, 
Each sweetly spoke of what life's pages 

meant, 
How poet's love one's name may aggrandize. 

And there upon Saint Michael's scale we laid 
The sonnets Petrarch sang and those that I, 
Alas, my little bowl flew rather high. 

But after def'rence due to him we paid, 
Her virtues added were and yours, and lol 
My weighty bowl as his was just as low. 



74 



Memento Mori! 

France Preseren 

The length of life for us but brief is here. 
What countless folk beneath the tomb-stones 

lie! 
Lo, night and day the grave is waiting nigh, 
But time and place unknown are e'en to seer. 

The beauteous face grim death does not 

revere, 
Nor golden treasures may deliv'rance buy. 
Nor may the poet's sigh, the throng's glad 

cry 
Repel the thief of life, of aspect drear. 

May he, who pleasure ever contemplates. 
And of frivolity and vainness prates. 
Think well: death's harvest ripens constantly. 

Mayhap that he, to-day with mirth aglow. 
To us to-mxorrow will with trumpet blow 
And sound: Memento mori! silently. 



7S 



He Comes Not 

(NJEGA NI) 
Simon Gregorcic 

'Mid her flowers in the garden 

She was singing merrily, 

When her loved one stepped before her, 

Cheeks of her blushed flamingly. 

Give a flow'r to me, fair maiden, 
That I pin it on my breast. 
Just a flower for remembrance 
Ere I leave for distant quest. 

She gave him her prettiest posy, 
With the posy gave her heart. 
Lonely she stood in the garden. 
He sped to a foreign part. 

'Mid her flowers in the garden 
She was singing merrily, — 
Why is she not now among them. 
Weeding, singing merrily? 



76 



Maiden sweet her head is bending, 
Face is pale, though once aglow. 
Heart of her is sad and dreary. 
In a stream her tear-drops flow. 

Longing o'er the hedge she gazes, - 
Many people hurry by; — 
Maiden pining, maiden pining. 
Her beloved comes not nigh. 



77 



Looking Into An Innocent Eye 

(POOLED V NEDOLZNO OKO) 

Simon Gregorcic 

Oh fear me not, oh fear me not, 
Thou angel gentle, innocent. 
Come hither, sit beside me. 
From eye to eye behold me. 

Your glance is pure, your eye serene, 
In it reflects the azure sky. 
In it there beam reflections 
Of days, with joy resplendent. 

You bring me wondrous memories 
Of days that were as yours are now, 
You bring me recollections 
Of youth that knows no sorrow. 

You bring to me the charming years, 
For me the years of song and bloom, 
Twas like a spring-time garden, 
A paradise of gladness. 



78 



Alas! My paradise is lost, 
Its bliss I never can recall, 
Its doors are closed forever, 
Gone are the golden hours. 

Though paradise of joy is locked, 
It seems to me I see revealed. 
While eyes of yours beholding, 
The radiance of heaven. 

My heart divinely tender grows. 
Entwined in mem'ries of the past, 
Entwined in days of rapture — 
O time sublime, enchanting! 



79 



Our Star 

(NASA ZVEZDA) 
Simon Gregorcic 

In the sky a star was beaming, 
With its beam it led our race; 
Brighter seemed to us its shining 
Than all lights in lofty space. 

But, alas, o'er hill it passes, 
Sinks beyond the gloomy lane. 
I now ask the radiant millions: 
Will it e'er appear again? 

Oh, the glowing stars are silent, 
No response they seem to know, 
From the azure dome up yonder 
Mutely they reflect their glow. 

Come, O Star, with all thy splendor. 
Gaze upon us with thy rays. 
May my home again behold thee, 
Golden star of happy days! 



80 



The Broken Blossom 

(IZGUBLJENI CVET) 
Simon Gregorcic 

Last night her sweet singing 
With nightingale vied, 
Why does she this morning 
Appear to have cried? 

Last night, like a flower, 
Her cheeks were in bloom. 
Why do they this morning 
Appear in deep gloom? 

She had a wee garden, 
A garden so fair, 
When she rose this morning, 
Her garden was bare. 

Oh, blossoms are tender. 
O'er night they may fade — 
Your loss e'en chagrins me, 
O negligent maid. 

Down yonder goes someone 
So bold and so spry. 
He plucked a rare blossom — 
How free is his cry! 



81 



Advance! 

y^ (NAPREJ!) 
Simon Jenko 

Advance, ye Slavic standards, 
To battle, sturdy race, 
For weal of native country 
The deadly thunder face! 

With arms and manly courage 
The foe with might defy, 
And write in gore the justice 
For which our people cry. 

Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp . . . 

Mother dear was sadly pleading 
As she tenderly embraced me. 
Sweetheart weepingly caressed me: 
O beloved, here remain! 

Fare thee well, O dearest mother, 
Native land is now my mother. 
And my sweetheart fame and honor. 
Forward, forward to the strife! 



82 



Samo 

Simon Jenko 

Where is earth the tombs concealing 
Where the heroes of our homeland 
Gently sleep in sleep of death? 
No one knows where they repose? 

Head bowed down and kneeling, 
I should like, O valiant Same, 
To devoutly kiss the sod 
Where thy valiant body lies. 

Over thy remains thus kneeling, 
I would strive to feel such power, 
And in me such love create 
As adorned thy noble heart. 

Voice of mine would be uplifted 
To bestir Slovenes to glory; 
Thus the race thy worth would know, 
And would worthy be of thee. 



83 



The Adriatic Sea 

(JADRANSKO MORJE) 
Simon Jenko 

Roar on, waters Adriatic, 
Once we proudly called thee Slavic. 
On thy waves a fleet of oak 
Bore the offsprings of our race. 

Gallant cities of our fathers 
Flourished then along thy waters, 
And their vessels then disclosed 
Sails that streaming bore their name. 

Hush now, sea, we pray thee, tell us! 
Do our fleets lie at thy bottom. 
Didst thou cast them on the cliffs 
That no longer they appear? 

In the sea they are not buried. 

Nor the cliffs caused their destruction, 

That no longer they appear 

Was but wrought by hostile sword. 



84 



Parting 

(RAZSTANEK) 
Fran Levstik 

To shower glances upon two 

Can neither wholesome be nor true: 

It can but cause the heart to rue. 

That even he, though now your pride, 
Your ways in tears may never chide, 
I now forever step aside. 

And so to you must now come I — 
O maid, look not into my eye! 
God knows if it be wet or dry? 

Though it be dry, though it be wet, 
May heart of yours feel no regret; 
Give me your hand, O maid, — forget! 

In silence I give mine to you, 

Your lovely face once more I view — 

And now forevermore adieu! 



85 



The Heart -- A Riddle 

(SRCE — ZASTAVICA) 
Anton Medved 

Why dream and dream, my weary heart, 
Why not take heed? Is time not rife 
To quell old passionate desires 
That would again steal forth to life? 

You bid old fires flame again, 
You yearn for heedless, reckless ways. 
Could you but rouse from fires dead 
One glowing spark of youthful days! 

No storm has brought you wisdom's thought, 
All grief, remorse have gone for naught. 
Forgotten are the thorny wreaths 
That ardent youth for you has wrought. 

Your passion burns like embers hot, 
While quelling it you bid it glow. 
What riddle deep you are, my heart, 
Tween heav'n and earth your courses flow. 



86 



To A Wild-Rose 

(ROll) 
Anton Medved 

Flower wild, what fate awaits you 
When from bud to life you spring, 
When the sun's warm rays caress you, 
When you blush and fragrance bring? 

Soon perhaps a lovely maiden 
Will espy you, pluck with zest, 
And with gladsome smile then pin you 
On her lover's manly breast. 

Or perchance to youthful widow 
You her sorrow will allay 
When her hand so white and loving 
You on husband's grave will lay. 

Or mayhap a cruel rain-storm 
Will uproot you, stem and all. 
And disperse your tender petals — 
No more wild-wood to enthrall. 

Or perhaps till late in autumn 
You will bloom 'neath chilly sky, 
And will thus unknown and lonely 
Wane, like unto me, and die. 



87 



Brooding 

(DUMA) 
Oton Zupancic 

Unto a song I hearkened and heard a 

singing voice, 
Voice of a man, as if in answer to a 

woman's voice; 
I heard how my heart was ringing. 

Song of a man and answer to a woman's 

song: 
Midst fields you sing me a song all verdant, 
Song of winds and leaves and grass and sun 

o'er grass. 
Song of hurrying and song of standing 

waves, 
Song of silvery and golden waves — 
Song of rivulets and song of grains. 

**As if with ribbons these villages are tied 

to the roads, 
Over roofs the church, its head uplifted, 
Gazes down upon the toils of men, 
Measuring their hours, apportioning their 

work. 



Houses are quaint, windows are dainty, 

from windows 
Down the wall the carnation flows green, 

red is the foam 
Of this sunny and peaceful cascade — 
A shrine to the lads who pass it by day, 
Their secret shrine by night — '' 

You sing; and your eyes are gladdened by 

the variegated scarfs, 
The glowing, ruddy faces and the gem- 
white laughter. 
The gestures angular, the awkward steps 

and the rustic abashments; 
Coarse oaths are like wine to your ear, 
A comparison bold — a gold-piece 'tis worth. 

Midst fields you sing me a song all verdant, 
You sing and invite: 

"Oaks gigantic stand beyond the fields 

and combat the storm-wind, 
Dreams of centuries rock their tops in 

distant murmurs, 
Each spring the new lends ear to mysteries 

of long ago; 



89 



And you toil far, far from home and stifle 

your soul — ^ 
I am among roses a rose: among them I 

mingle — 
You could pass by and know me not from 

my companions.'" 

Midst fields you sing me a song all verdant,, 
You shout and invite, 
You call to the open. 

Look, my pride breaks forth, with it a song, 
Daringly, boldly it looks in the eye of your 

song. 
To your song prefer I the song of cities. 
The song of thickly walled streets and steps 

that hurry at their base. 
The rhythm of arms and shoulders that lift 

up stone and log. 
The measure of railways, beneath all stars 

alike. 
The course of grand rivers, adorned with 

weighty cargoes. 
The buzz of wires that bind the north and 

the south 
And lead the voice of the west to the ear 

of the east. 



90 



(I am fain to put my ear to the telegraph 

pole : 
In service it stands, immovable courier, and 

sings and sings,, 
Its turbid murmurings tidings absorbing 

and into distance dispatching — 
Thus the poet's heart sings with ideas that 

onward speed 
In age electrical above his head.) 

Where is the foreign clime? How stifles 

it my soul? 
Mothers I saw — just as in our land they 

watched o'er the cradle, 
About their breasts the babe felt for milk: 
Men I saw in their struggle for scanty bread 
Mighty and gloomy. 
And for love; I too was among them; 
Surging blood I saw, 
Passion and strife; 
Country I saw and countryman on his own 

soil,. 
To him it was dearest as ours to us; 
I looked at the land — 'twas beautiful as 

ours^ 
Worthy of the same love as ours; 
I saw a house along the road and I, a 

wayfarer, turned in — 



91 



Wine and bread were given me and a kindly 

word, 
The last I relished more than the wine 

and bread. 
In the surging life of great cities was I but 

a wave, 
Oh, and my heart beat fast 
In a mighty measure, a thousand times 

quickened; 
Into a new life the soul of the rustic leapt. 
And a new faith embraced his heart. 
Foreheads I saw: as if turtles crept under 

their skin. 
Though but thought did wrinkle them so; 
Cheeks I saw: they were furrowed with 

seeds for the future; 
Hands to machines were in service all day. 
But in the evening the sooty forehead 

illumed. 
And the eye flitted o'er landscapes bright. 
Dreaming daring dreams of the future. 
Following the sweeping gestures of the 

orator 
And believing for a generation yet unborn . . 
I heard the battle cry from Manchuria, 
In Paris I heard a hundred diverse echoes. 
I beheld the sculptor's chisel; lovingly 
Like a kiss it sped o'er the white marble. 



92 



Gently kissing off bit by bit from the rock 
Till it shyly breathed with life. 
I saw the thinker: laws he wrote 
Not for earthly people — for stars he 

mapped out courses, 
In the universe discrepancies he detected, 
New worlds his reckoning demanded, 
''Be!'' said he — and night unto him a new 

world gave . . 

Here, here the arteries of life together run, 
Here of the universe the destinies are spun, 
I love these great cities for their bustle and 

roar — 
Liberty, goals of the future over them soar . • 

I heard how my heart was ringing: 

Sacred art thou, O land, blessed he for 

whom thou bearest — 
With oil thou soothest his roughened palm, 
Thou fillest his bins and with wine repayest 

his toil, 
Hay and after-math thou givest the ox 

that drew the harrow 
And trod before the plough and sweat with 

the ploughman; 
Into the cups of flowers thou pourest honey 

that the bee, 

93 



By secret care impelled, may come in the 

spring to labor for Christmas; 
The cold the housewife does not fear, her 

household 
Has a two-ply garment, hear you the carders 
On the block? And the warp on the loom 

awaits the weft. 
Oh, there the holy ghost spreads out his 

wings o'er the table, 
Blessed is the toil and blessed the rest for 

the household. 

I walked about our land and drank in its 

marvels, 
How I loved it! Like the uncovered breasts 

of a virgin 
Breathed her fields 'neath the glowing sun 

an exquisite perfume; 
1 submerged myself in the billows of her 

grains, 
Alone, alone with myself, hidden only with 

my thoughts 
In the speechless company of youthful 

yearning. 
Youthful indeed — that is to say: in the 

heart of all life. 
Its entire breadth my dreams was dreaming, 
Sky and mountain to my wishes responded; 



94 



The lark — the singing rocket — sprinkled 

songs: 
Did he hear my heart and learned from it 

to sing? 
O mead, didst thou see the blossoms of my 

soul 
And gathered them up, and thus adorned 

thy soil? 

Your hand, O father, revealed to me the 

beauties of the land 
And — wonder upon wonder — flung aside 

the curtains of nature; 
You showed me the fruits of the fields, 

you led me into the woods, 
Explained the secrets of voices and the 

families of trees, 
And we knew where blackbirds, where 

thrushes kept their young, 
Where the goblin dwelt, where the fairies 

hid in the forest. 

On Saint Gregory's day — father, you 

recall? — the birdies were mating, 
Back of the schoolyard in the hedge they 

were feasting and drinking; 
You and I across the way were listening . . 

*'Hear you chirp-chirp? 



95 



Which means 'to your health' — the youthful 

toastmaster toasted." 
And when the guests flew away from the 

hedge with a scream, 
By the sleeve you pulled me and told me 

to search. 
And — with wonder and fear in my heart — 
I went to look in the hedge, 
After the birds and their feast I went 

gleaning: 
Behold, 'neath the hornbeam bush — pretty 

roly-polies. 
Sweet wine, johnnybread, figs and other 

sweets 
"But will they not return?" — ""No, all 

this they left to you. 
That which you tossed them in winter they 

now give back.''" 

O native home, O shelter paternal! 
To the humble thou art a castle, to the 

wayfarer a solace: 
The dove from a foreign sky flutters back. 
Yearning shows it the way and the place; 
Why can the swallow the southern summer 

not endure? 
The mem'ry of the nest transports it o'er 

sea, o'er mountain. 



96 



The doves o'er the burning abode hover 

enthralled . . 
My thoughts grieve desolate o'er the 

devastated hearth . . 
There came a sombre day; we sped in all 

directions, 
Wherever drove us the force of life and the 

heart's unrest; 
The swallows 'neath the roof remained in 

shelter safe — 
Dispelled were we and scattered about the 

world . . 

Now youth has bowed its flow'ry head, 
But a secret thought incarnated a soaring 

bird, 
'Twas no longer the dove that flies about 

the fire, 
'Twas an eagle whose wings are the storm. 
Whose eyes are lightnings, speeding into 

the dismal distance. 
They sought, they found; not home, nay 

more: the homeland . . 

I walked about our land and drank in its 

woes. 
Sacred art thou, O land, blessed he for 

whom thou bearest; — 



97 



There are fields that I know — whose are 

they glittering in the sun? 
The plough and hoe you set aside, beneath 

the sod you crept, 
Old man, and the cross on your grave is 

rusting and bending; 
Your son has buried himself alive 

underground — in America he digs, 
Still in the shaft the dawn of fields his 

sullen thoughts illuminates. 
His son no longer will know them, nor 

dream of them. 

I heard a widow's wail: 
''My Mate, oh, my Mate:" 
The big bell was ringing — 

''My Mate, oh, my Mate!" 

Hamburg, Hamburg! cries the bell . . 
There her son sank into death. 
Not a tear was shed for him. 
Not an epitaph marks his tomb. 

Hamburg! Her thought gropes round. 
Knowing not whither to fly, 
Where to alight on the grave 
That she might shed a tear thereon. 



98 



If I had then been God, 

— My Mate, oh, my Mate! 

Into the grave I should have cried: 
^^My Mate, rise, my Mate!'' 

Hamburg, Hamburg! — The big bell 

Sings and sighs. 

Wails and cries. 

Falling heavily on her head. 

Hamburg, Hamburg! Darkly falls. 

Blurs and drawls. 

Everything palls 

into gloominess, heaven and earth. 

If thou hadst heard then, O God, 

— "My Mate, oh, my Mate;" 

Thou wouldst have shouted into his grave: 
"My Mate, rise, my Mate!" 

And there are shoulders and backs like 

cliffs, 
The neck — place a burden thereon, 

oppressor, — 
Will carry it and will not bend; 
And hearts that are peaceful and strong — 
Their pride is without words; 
As if they had not been borne by mothers, 



99 



As if from mountain crags they had issued 

forth, 
Into the world they must, and a foreign 

land boasts 
Of the work of their hands; 
There in America, there in Westphalia 
Have we lost them — no more will reach 

them 
Our eye . . 

Where art t'hou, O native land? On these 

fields? 
Still 'neath Triglav, about the Karavanken? 
Art thou midst furnaces, art thou in mines? 
Here? Beyond the ocean? And thou hast 

no bounds? 

Once I wished that thou wouldst broaden 

forth. 
That thou wouldst extend o'er the world — 
Lo, 'tis plain now: mighty and boundless 

thou art. 
Into the distance like seed thou scatterest 

thy brood. 

Wilt thou like swallows again call them 

home? 
Reunite them like doves 'neath thy roof? 



100 



Or will foreign glory beguile them, 
Ne'er allow them to return to thee? 

Where art thou, O native land? On these 

fields? 
Still 'neath Triglav, about the Karavanken? 
Art thou midst furnaces, art thou in mines? 
Here? Beyond the ocean? And thou hast 

no bounds? 

I apprehend thee, I feel thee. The poet's 

dream 
For many long years hath over thee hovered, 
Watching and listening and weeping and 

hoping, 
Questioning itself for thy secret. 

The mussel, deep in the sea, grown into 

pain intense, 
Into a gem all its pain hath contracted — 
O poet's heart — what hath gathered in 

thee? 
O poet's heart — it giveth thee grief. 



101 



Sails 

(JADRA) 
Oton Zupancic 

Sails, O sails on water's surface, 
Many valiant souls beneath them, 
With each sail an ardent yearning. 
With each soul a destiny. 

Verily I say, O brethren: 
Tis not in the sun, nor wind. 
Nor in seas of stormy billows. 
Fate lies but in valiant souls. 



102 



A Maiden's Song 

(JAZ SE TE BOM SPOMNILA . . .) 
Silvin Sardenko 

I am going to think of. you 
Oftentimes, in many a place: 
When the mower I'll behold, 
Mowing meads with careless grace; 
When the hunter's shot Til hear. 
Ringing through the woody dell; 
When the vulture Til behold 
In whose clutch a good bird fell. 



103 



At Dusk 

(O MRAKU) 
Anton Funtek 

From yonder steeple chimes the bell 
When dusk creeps over hill and dell. 
Ring on, ring on, from belfry height. 
Of home recall the mem'ries bright! 

Ring on, ring on, with sweet refrain, 
And sing to me o'er foreign plain; 
Although in anguish throbs my heart, 
To me thou ever welcome art. 

To me thy ringing seems to tell 
That I recline in native dell, 
Where known to me is ev'ry face, 
Where friendliness the heart doth grace. 

So let me hearken to thy chime. 
Oh soothe my heart in foreign clime; 
Thou evening bell in yonder height, 
Of home recall the mem'ries bright! 



104 



In Distant Land 

(NA TUJIH TLEH) 
Anton Funtek 

Murmur, murmur, verdant forest, 
Shady wood on foreign shore. 
Seems to me a song comes stealing, 
Like a song in days of yore. 

Thoughts of mine roam in the distance, 
Dreamingly I close my eyes: 
Ah, again I see my forest, 
Wafting o'er me murmurs, sighs. 

Ah, I see my native meadows. 
None on earth with them can vie; 
Fields I see and golden hillocks. 
All are as in days gone by. 

Murmur, murmur, verdant forest. 
Sing of youth your song so grand — 
Oh that you could know my longing 
As I pine in distant land! 



105 



KAZALO 



I. 

Stran 

Zelje 5 

Metulju •. . . 6 

V tezkih urah 7 

S planine hudournik 8 

V jeseni 9 

Svarilo starca 10 

V zrcalu 11 

Slikarju 12 

Srcu 13 

Starka 14 

V tihem zimskem veceru 15 

Snezinke 16 

V pomladnem jutru 17 

Njagara 18 

Optimist 19 

Codec Tine 20 

Starost in mladost 21 

Ob jutru 22 

Vijolici . . 23 

Poet 24—25 

II. 

Iz nekdanjih dni 29 

Zakaj? 30 

Jaz Ijubim te 31 



Stran 

Dekliska Ijubezen 32 

Zvestoba 33 

Vedno ti 34 

Ljubezni hrepenenje 35 

Nl dovolj Ijubezen? 36 

Ob njenem godu 37 

Indijanski motiv 38 

Poletja klic 39 

Zaljubljenec ; 40 

Prosnja 41 

V parku 42 

Flori . 43 

Zenska 44 

Nekdaj in sedaj 45 

III. 

Vernih dus dan . 49 

Kakor v davnih casih . 50 — 51 

Domotozje 52 

Zalostna epistola 53 — 54 

Izseljenci 55 — 56 — 57 

Ivanu Cankarju 58 

Ruskemu pevcu 59 

SLOVENSKE PESMI V ANGLEscINL 

Beneath The Window ...... 63—64—65 

To Strings 6Q — 67 

Whither? 68 

The Sailor 69—70—71 

The Unlawful Mother 72—73 

Sonnet . 74 

Memento Mori! 75 

He Comes Not 76—77 

Looking Into An Innocent Eye 78 — 79 

Our Star 80 

The Broken Blossom 81 



Stran 

Advance! 82 

Samo 83 

The Adriatic Sea 84 

Parting 85 

The Heart—A Riddle 86 

To A Wild-Rose 87 

Brooding 88—101 

Sails .102 

A Maiden's Song 103 

At Dusk 104 

In Distant Land 105 



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